


Constellations

by eticatka



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Banter, Cormoran Strike's Birthday, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Office, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eticatka/pseuds/eticatka
Summary: Happy birthday, Strike!Strike comes up with an unusual metaphor for his relationship with Robin.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Happy Birthday Cormoran Blue Strike | 2020





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you were wondering what happened before [Chapter 6 of Strikesgiving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27330910/chapters/67017061), so this is it! I included that chapter here, though in its original, uncut version, and combined it with some ideas I've had in mind for some time. I hope this combination doesn't look too rough, and that the whole thing isn't as awkward as it seems to me now.

Strike lay on his back, savouring the feeling of Robin’s warm naked body pressed against his, equally warm and naked. His fingers were ghosting lines between the freckles and birthmarks on her shoulders and back, and he imagined he was tracing constellations on a limitless sky.

Although he literally saw stars just ten minutes ago, he didn’t allow himself to go into further space metaphors, which would have likely included his personal spaceship, docking with Robin’s space station, and reaching the Milky Way galaxy.

“What are you planning for the twenty-third?” Robin interrupted his reverie.

He wasn’t sure why he had to think about mundane thinks when he was just back from the best interstellar cruise of his life.

“Nothin’ special. Why? Are you planning a surprise party?”

“No, I don’t. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. This is what the whole concept of surprises is about, right?”

“I would happily spend the whole day just like this. In bed with you.”

“I never doubted your abilities, but personally I’m not sure I can shag so much.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be _only_ shagging. We’d have to eat sometimes.”

“Right, that’s all you care for. Sex and food.”

Strike snorted with laughter.

“Anyway, it’s wishful thinking. Twenty-third’s a working day.”

“Speaking of work,” Robin sounded as if a sudden idea struck her. “How about inviting the team for drinks?”

He raised his head.

“You serious?”

“Absolutely. It would be a nice teambuilding gesture. We had shitty experiences in the past, but it doesn’t mean our team isn’t great right now. They deserve it.”

Strike knew she was right. The team was in its prime; every worker in the agency was not only a high-class professional, but a good personality in equal measure.

“Okay, but let’s make it the next day. And we will spend the evening of the twenty-third together. Just you and me. Deal?”

“Deal.” She kissed his chest without moving her head. “But you’re going to invite them yourself.”

*

“Pat, could you please arrange an evening off for all of us for tomorrow?” Strike asked, entering the outer office on the morning of November 23. The secretary smirked and nodded.

“Why?” Michelle, who was seated on the sofa with her laptop, raised her head. Strike sighed.

“Today’s my birthday. I’d like to celebrate it with all of you.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Happy birthday! I’m sorry, I didn’t bring–”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” Strike managed a fond smile. Something still needed to be explained. “We’re going to Tottenham tomorrow, ‘cause I have, er, a late work meeting tonight.”

“A partners’ meetin’, I guess,” muttered Barclay.

“Sorry?”

“I say, have a nice meetin’!”

*

“Barclay knows,” said Strike as soon as he regained his ability to speak. “I’m sure he does. He’s our best detective.”

“Hey, it was your idea not to discuss the work in bed tonight! That’s unfair!” Robin lay on her side, facing him. “Unless the thought of Barclay turns you on.”

“Officially, we’re having a work meeting at the moment.”

“Right, you’ve been very industrious just now, I have to give you that.”

Strike pulled her closer, so that she partially lay on top of him. His fingers, again, started tracing imaginary constellations on her back. He fought the urge to say something cheesy and primitive which would hardly express this cosmic feeling he experienced every time he was in bed with her, when he felt his whole universe consisted entirely of her.

“I think Bamborough case hasn’t let me go completely,” he finally said, having found the way to connect the work to the way he felt. “I’ve started to build astronomical concepts around things that have nothing to do with astronomy.”

He somehow felt she understood what he meant, because she clung to him tighter, and her hand sneaked under him, as if she anchored herself with him.

“Only that it was astrology, not astronomy. And I thought you said it’s bollocks.”

“Astrology is. Astronomy isn’t.” He pulled her up, so that her ear was right against his lips. “What you’re doing to me sends me to outer space every time. Do you know what I mean?”

She nodded.

“I feel the same,” she whispered, and, without a further warning, straddled him again.


End file.
